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Updated: May 10, 2025
Thet's why Pat Hawe thinks Gene plugged the strange vaquero who was with little Bonita thet night last fall. Wal, Gene's scrappin' now jest to git shot up hisself, for some reason thet only God Almighty knows." Nels's story of how Stewart wept over his horse influenced Madeline powerfully. Her next move was to persuade Alfred to see if he could not do better with this doggedly bent cowboy.
"Dey falls to scrappin' good an' hard. Dey couldn't see me, an' I couldn't see dem, but I could hear dem bumpin' about and sluggin' each other to beat de band. An', by and by, one of de mugs puts do odder mug to de bad, so dat he goes down and takes de count; an' den I hears a click. An' I know what dat is. It's one of de gazebos has put de irons on de odder gazebo."
"You're for it, Jerry," said Stanley, glad it was his friend's turn this time. "Not me," Jerry replied. "No scrappin' Sunday. Miss Boy's orders." Albert, very white, was sparring all round his adversary's head. "Chukkered me, did ye?" he said. "Put 'em up then, or I'll spoil ye."
Mortally wounded by Tybalt, Mercutio says, "No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door; but 'tis enough, 'twill serve: ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o' both your houses! "I never heard," mentioned Broncho, "about any of Dibble's ways of mixin' scrappin' and cipherin'."
The crowd examined him with frank curiosity, commenting on him as "the dude that's been scrappin' with Mike Murphy." He saw some of the women busy over the prostrate form of Mrs. Murphy, lifting her from the floor to the bed. "Well, Mike," one of the policemen said, "I guess this job'll be your last. You've done it this time."
"Whoop!" said the Rum Alley tenement house. The hall filled with interested spectators. "Hi, ol' lady, dat was a dandy!" "T'ree to one on deh red!" "Ah, stop yer damn scrappin'!" The door of the Johnson home opened and Maggie looked out. Jimmie made a supreme cursing effort and hurled his mother into the room. He quickly followed and closed the door.
I can't see no way out, Smoke, except main strength an' sweat an' to plow through. If the whole creek was glare-ice they ain't room for a dozen teams abreast. I got a hunch right now they's goin' to be a heap of scrappin' before they get strung out. An' if any of it comes our way, you got to let me do the punchin'." Smoke squared his shoulders and laughed non-committally.
There wa'n't no scrappin', nor war-path yowlin'; they jest come an' settled right down an' took on to the land. Wal, this feller, 'fore he died, got the Mission'ry on his trail, an' got religion; but he couldn't git dead clear o' his med'cine, an' he got to prophesyin'. He called all his folk together an' took out his youngest squaw.
"I haven't been at it so many years." "Oh, haven't you?" asked Miss Pennington, with a raising of her penciled eyebrows. "Excuse me, my dear!" "Don't mention it!" "Get on to that, would you!" exclaimed Pop Snooks to Mr. Sneed. "The two old-timers are scrappin'." "I knew they would," was the grouchy rejoinder.
But he returned almost immediately and thrust his head in through the doorway. "Ther' won't be no need fer scrappin' yet awhile," he said. "I 'lows I've changed my way o' thinkin'. The company's dog-train is comin' up the valley, I guess. When they've gone, we'll see." And Victor smiled to himself when the giant had once more departed. Then he put his pistol away.
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